


the air between any hand and its want

by mesopotamish



Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Multi, Pining, Sharing a Bed, beetlands, light body horror, please give beetlejuice a hug, post-musical, this is sappy and I won't apologize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mesopotamish/pseuds/mesopotamish
Summary: After a nightmare, Beetlejuice plucks up his courage and asks for what he needs.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland
Comments: 9
Kudos: 143





	the air between any hand and its want

He couldn't keep un-living like this.

Beetlejuice startled from sleep, shooting up with a gasp and grasping wildly at the sheets. Sick to his stomach, he heaved a few sharp breaths. His gaze swiveled around the room. Lilac linens, curtains lazily drifting in the barely-morning breeze, a cozy armchair topped with an antimacassar handcrafted by Barbara— _Barbara_. He wasn't in the Netherworld being screamed at or torn asunder. He was with the Deetzes and Maitlands. He was safe.

" _Fuck_ ," he groaned, flopping back down and releasing his clutch on the blankets. He ran a tired, shaking hand through his hair, fingertips tingling from the panic. His sallow skin was coated in a light sheen of sweat—unnecessary for a demon, but he enjoyed the swampy effect sweat gave him. Sleeping used to be enjoyable, too, but being plagued by nightmares every other night was quickly souring his opinion of the habit. It seemed like the more time he spent outside the Netherworld, the worse they got.

But the long, occasionally terrifying nights spent sleeping were worth every second with his breathers and ghosts. Days with the Deetzes and Maitlands were incredible. He acted as guardian of the household against Netherworld beasties who'd gotten bold after his mom's death. In return, Beetlejuice got a roof over his head, opportunities for hijinks, and time with his favorite living and dead—all just for scaring away a few nasty un- and never-dead. He’d even gotten to invest in some long-term antics: thanks to him, Lydia had started calling Barbara and Adam “dude,” much to their restrained displeasure. Months and months of getting to make them laugh every day in exchange for so little.

The weirdest thing was they didn't seem to mind him. More and more, especially now that he was taking semi-regular showers, he'd find them seeking chances to get close to him: the Maitlands occasionally letting a hand rest on his shoulder or arm (or thigh, once with Adam; Beetlejuice had floated blissfully for hours afterward, much to Lydia's smug, slightly grossed out delight), Lydia curling up against him while studying, Deborah offering to paint his nails. Even Charles had asked the demon to sit by him a couple times, curious about his historical knowledge. Some days, Beetlejuice could almost believe that they didn't just tolerate his presence, but actually _wanted him around_. Like _that_ made any sort of sense.

His thoughts lingered on touch. For a moment, he considered drawing up a delicious fantasy featuring himself and those sexy, nerdy-ass ghosts. Getting off had certainly distracted him and lured him back to sleep after many a horrifying dream. But _Satan's moist, hairy balls_ , what he really needed was a good fucking hug.

His legs had swung over the side of the bed before he'd finished the thought to its necessary of-course-you're-not-getting-a-hug-you-lonely-little-shit-why-would-anyone-want-that conclusion.

"Hey. Whatcha doing?" he asked his bare feet.

They each manifested a mouth. "Going to see the Maitlands!" his feet responded in unison with matching pointy grins.

"That's stupid. They're sleeping. Possibly fucking. And as fun as that'd be to interrupt, they don't want me bothering 'em. 'Specially not for something as dumb as a h—as this."

"They'd wanna help!"

Of course they would. Adam and Barbara were so sweet it had given him literal toothaches; they'd even laughed, bemusedly, when he pulled one to show them the sugary damage. He put his head in his hands and groaned softly.

"You know we're _riiight_ ," his feet cooed.

"All right, enough of you; the gimmick's getting old," he muttered, waving a tired hand to zip their lips.

Sighing dramatically, Beetlejuice stood and shuffled to the bedroom door, glanced briefly down to make sure he was wearing something—as fun as that mistake had been, he was too worn out to make Charles yelp again should he also be awake—and, seeing his fun bits covered, let himself onto the landing and trudged up the stairs.

At the attic door, hand poised to knock, he hesitated again. This could easily screw up everything. Playing it safe had worked in his favor so far, hadn't it? The hell was he doing, asking for more? He considered traipsing back to his room, burying himself under the covers, and generating another arm or two to hug himself and play with his own damn hair like a normal touch-starved bastard.

Screw that. He pounded on the door, winced, and tapped again. He bounced on his toes. Every muffled noise inside the room sent a wave of anticipation and regret. After a few centuries, Adam opened the door. Hair mussed, dressed in flannel pajamas with little birds on them, bleary-eyed—he looked _delectable_.

" 'Sup," Beetlejuice mumbled. He fixed his gaze on one of the buttons on the ghost's pajamas. Maybe he could play this off casually, retain some semblance of dignity as he begged for a cuddle. Maybe—

"Beetlejuice, what's wrong?"

Fuck. The demon rocked forward and back gently. His eyes flickered up to meet Adam's; he knew instantly that this was a mistake when he saw their softness. Horror of horrors, Adam was genuinely concerned about him.

"I, uh." He looked away, grimacing. There was a spider spinning away at a new web in the corner of the attic door. Might make a good snack—if he’d had any appetite. He exhaled and watched the web strands quiver.

"Nightmares," he finally grumbled. Out of the corner of his eye from his fixed focus on the spider, he saw Adam's hand twitch toward his arm before quickly drawing back. His heart sank. _Abort, abort, abort._ He shoved his own hands deep in the pockets of Charles' old sweatshirt and took a deep breath. "Just, uh, coming by to make sure you two're sleeping good. Who knows? Might be catching. But it seem's like you're—" He gestured to Adam's rumpled appearance. "Sleeping okay. Or were. Ha. So. Guess I'll mosey on back down."

"Do you want to stay and talk about it?" Adam asked softly.

The ghoul flinched, imagining intentionally reliving the maternal screams his psyche had inflicted on him. He stared at his toes. _You little shits better keep quiet_. "Nah, I don't wanna keep you up. Nothin' interesting anyway."

"Beetlejuice." Barbara's voice from the dark of the attic was soft and raspy with sleep. She wore identical pajamas to Adam's. Gross. "You seem really upset. Can we give you a hug?"

His relief was so sharp it made his eyes water. "Um. Yeah, I guess that sounds fine." His voice wavered mortifyingly.

Before he could do anything, the two of them had carefully wrapped themselves around either side of him and _oh god or Satan, whoever the fuck_ were pressing themselves close to him and their skin was cool in the few precious spots where it touched his and Adam had pushed his face into the demon's shoulder and Barbara's hair smelled so nice and someone was rubbing his back slowly and their hands were clasped over his chest and if he was crying a little bit, who would blame him?

 _Remember this_ , he told himself sternly. _They're gonna let go. They won't wanna hold you again, you weird, smelly fucker. You have to remember_ everything. 

The ghosts pulled away from him in almost the same moment, as though they'd telepathically agreed to. Beetlejuice let out a tiny, watery noise. Barbara smiled sadly at him and cupped his cheek in her hand. He trembled under her touch. She had to be thinking about how pitiful he was. Maybe they regretted touching him at all. Maybe he'd just ruined all of this. How arrogant it had been to come up her and practically demand affection; they must despise him secretly, they'd hold this against him, they—

She put her other hand on Adam's shoulder. "If you don't want to be alone tonight, you can come sleep in our bed, with us."

Adam turned to her, blinking. "That's okay with you? I wasn't going to offer if you weren't—"

"Of course, dear." She smiled at Adam and he beamed back. Beetlejuice would barf to convince them of his distaste if he wasn't so busy panicking. He felt naked. He looked down, just to be sure—still clothed. How could they both have read his mind that clearly? Why were they okay with this? What if they found they hated it and it changed everything? The Decameron would get all life coach-y and tell him that he was catastrophizing or some shit and that change is actually good or whatever, but expecting the worst and not asking for more had worked out for him so far… hadn’t it?

"I—" He knew he should say no. He'd gotten his hug—more than he could have reasonably expected—and he should be satisfied with that. He should let them sleep. He should return to his room and stare at the ceiling and be lonely as hell until Lydia woke up and he could pester her. “Yeah,” he said anyway. “Yeah. Yes.”

The pair smiled at him and led him into their room. Their bed was on the far side of the attic, behind a partition; the demon had peeked once or twice at their crisply made bed while hanging out with them during the day. Now the sheets were crumpled at the foot of the bed and the pillows were wrinkled with the ghosts’ impressions. Adam immediately lay down on one side while Barbara perched on the other. The pair looked up at Beetlejuice expectantly as he hesitated a few feet away. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

"Plenty of room, dear." Barbara patted the bed.

Feeling himself start to blush at the pet name—directed at him!—Beetlejuice sputtered. "I—Do I... smell all right?" His voice was very small. "I don't wanna..." He frowned at the floor and shrugged.

"That's very thoughtful of you to consider that," said Adam, walking over to gently touch his arm. "But yes, you smell okay. You smell good, actually; that body wash Delia picked out for you really suits you."

Beetlejuice waggled his brows at him, ignoring the hot blush that was almost certainly pinkening his hair. “Gotta admit, I’m pretty tired, but you keep praising me like that and I’ll make you scream in no time, babe.”

Adam snorted (though he was also looking a little flushed), grabbed the demon’s hand, and led him to bed. He gestured for Beetlejuice to shimmy into the middle and he obeyed, keeping his arms tight against his chest once he was settled on his side. Barbara pressed herself against the ghoul’s back. Adam, lifting the covers over the three of them, scooted in on the other side, curling up against Beetlejuice’s chest and facing him. Beetlejuice fit perfectly between them. He lifted an arm and carefully pressed it to Adam’s back, relaxing against Barbara.

“Are you comfy? Not too hot?” Adam asked sleepily, snuggling closer. “We like it pretty cozy, being—well, you know.”

“Mmm. S’nice.”

Adam was asleep within a couple minutes, snoring lightly. Beetlejuice watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. If he'd been less exhausted, he'd have been much more turned on. Barbara had thrown her leg over his thigh and Adam’s light, unneeded breath on his collarbone was almost enough to keep him awake. But everything about tonight had been draining—and there was always tomorrow morning. He let out a deep, contented sigh.

“If you ever change your mind and want to talk about things…” Barbara whispered into his hair. “…Nightmares, the past, anything you like… we’re always ready to listen.”

The demon hummed. “Sweet of you, Babs, but I’m the point of view character. Don’t wanna get repetitive.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled softly, then grimaced. "Anyway. I'm just. Not good with all this... you know..." He manifested a third arm to wave a dramatic hand.

"Vulnerability?"

"—Sappy shit," he growled.

She huffed a laugh and his mouth quirked. He unsuccessfully fought a low trill of a purr as he felt her begin to play with his hair.

“I’m glad you came up here tonight.”

“I should have horrifying anxiety dreams more often.”

“Well, next time, you can come up without having a nightmare.” Her voice was starting to slur with oncoming sleep. “We’ve been talking about inviting you to do stuff like this for a while now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She sighed gently. In a few minutes, she’d fallen asleep, one hand still loosely tangled in his hair, and Beetlejuice was technically alone again. But with the two ghosts pressed against him, holding him close, he didn’t feel alone. Sleep began to creep over him in earnest. He didn’t know what would happen in the morning (though he had a few _very_ interesting ideas) but for the moment, things were okay. Beetlejuice was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the first fanfic I've written in ages; just needed to think about Beej getting some cuddles ^_^
> 
> \- Title from "Isn't the Air Also a Body, Moving?" by Natalie Diaz  
> \- The image of Beetlejuice manifesting a third arm to play with his hair to lull himself to sleep comes from [this great post from heknowshisherbs](https://heknowshisherbs.tumblr.com/post/616632123087011840/soft-boys)


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